Unwanted Glory
by rockadaisy
Summary: Harry Potter was sent to St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys instead of Hogwarts. Trying to keep characters as close as possible to canon given the circumstances but...yeah. Challenge from OhMagic. Going to say T for language and possib
1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. It's all JKR's. Even though I did invent Jack Hammond… the rest of it- so not mine. Not even the general idea. See? Challenge from OhMagic:

Harry Potter never attended Hogwarts. Instead he was sent to St. Brutus's School for Incurably Criminal Boys. He has to eventually find out about the magically community, and when he does, he flat out refuses to be anyone's hero. He's lived a hard life and doesn't think he needs anyone else. Nor does he think it's his responsibility to protect the people who abandoned him with the Dursley's and left him to fend for him self at St. Brutus's.

PROLOGUE

Off a dark side street on the edge of London, two odd-looking men cautiously approached a derelict, seemingly abandoned small building with bits of plaster chipped from its surface. One of the men checked behind his back uncertainly before pulling out a narrow piece of wood and tapping swiftly against the door. The rotting wooden door immediately slid open and they both slipped in through the open crack and entered into a tidy office, complete with desk and chair, before the door closed behind them.

"I can't understand why the owls haven't been getting to the boy, Albus." A portly man wearing a bowler cap that appeared to be a few sizes small complained as he paced over to the desk and seated himself. "You must have sent half the owls in London, and you say they either return with the letter undelivered or they don't return at all… perhaps we should consider sending one of your faculty over to retrieve him. Or even an Auror… the school year is about to start, and if he is to attend, finally, we really must reach him before the end of the week." With a considerable amount of effort, the man managed to yank off the hat, and then Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, nervously twisted a lock of the revealed short hair around one of his stubby fingers. "Can you imagine, losing track of the Boy Who Lived? What will people say?"

"That is a fine idea," His companion, a lanky gentleman with a long, white mane of hair, said calmly. "I have already fielded numerous requests to fetch him; however, considering the circumstances, I think I should be the one to bring him here."

"Circumstances?" Fudge asked in indignation. "What circumstances? No, the more I think of it, the more I believe an Auror would be the most efficient. Certainly you can't leave the school for such a period of time, not when the other students will be arriving in a matter of days. And in these dangerous times… no, an Auror will be just the ticket."

"Your offer is exceedingly gracious, but I'm afraid I really must insist. According to his aunt and uncle, he has been sent to a boarding school for… particularly troublesome muggle children… and has been enrolled there for the past five years. I'd prefer, and I'm sure you'd agree, to bring as little attention to this oversight as possible. As you said so eloquently before, losing track of the 'Boy Who Lived' would look quite careless indeed."

"Well, first you tell me that the safety of Hogwarts has been compromised- and you bloody well know how, hiring that fool Squirrel or whatever his name was- so that we should hold off on the owls for a few years then suddenly it's time to bring him back and how was I supposed to know the damn fools had sent the child off? As if I have nothing better to do than keep records on a young boy, Boy Who Lived or not… being Minister of Magic is a very time-consuming-"

"Yes, I am aware that you are a very busy man." The other man interrupted, still managing to sound politely patient. "Which is why I have offered to see to the problem myself. You need not worry about it any longer, Cornelius. We have lost the advantage of time we once had, and we have kept him safely away from the wizarding world long enough. I will bring the boy to London, and we will see to things from there." And with that, Albus Dumbledore pulled himself up to his full height and disappeared into thin air.


	2. You've Got to Pick a Pocket or Two

A.N.: I am aware that Jack's dialect is a bit…mysterious to say the least. I'm picturing a cockney sort of thing, and even though some of his language might seem old-fashioned, it's how I want it so deal. LOL. Some words he'll say right and others he won't. He's not stupid, he just doesn't really care to bother with proper grammar. Please forgive him (and me), and I hope you like him anyway. And I promise that the extensive use of British slang will not continue throughout the entire story. There. Now enjoy.

CHAPTER ONE- You've Got to Pick a Pocket or Two

St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys was located directly outside of Surrey, far past the manicured lawns and orderly two-stories of the stiff, suburban city. But still, the campus seemed more like a penitentiary than a schoolyard, dirt grounds surrounded by high, spiked wire fences and guards at the front gate. Fittingly, the sky never seemed to be completely clear, and even on rather nice evenings like this particular one in question, the moonlight seemed muted and gray through the clouds. Inside the imposing building was a selection of small classrooms, as well as a bunk area where the boys slept in long rows of fifteen. However, the room was nearly empty in the summer season, housing only a few unfortunate boys that either had no where else to go, or simply weren't wanted back home.

Exactly four empty beds down from the door on the far left, a boy with messy dark hair and green eyes swung his feet over to kick impatiently at the cot next to his.

"Patience, little Potter. I'm still countin'." The harassed boy teased from under his thin covers.

"You haven't got that much, so hurry it up."

"Right. I got about… twenty pound, just a couple pence short. Not bad for a few hours out."

In the dark, Harry waived his coin pouch smugly. "Twenty-five." His friend let out a dramatic groan. Back when Harry had first shown up at the school, just a kid and absolutely terrified of the place, Jack Hammond had been there like an answer to a prayer, ready to show him the ropes. Just a year older than himself, Jack had dirty blonde hair that had a tendency to fall in his eyes and the kind of friendly disposition that charmed most everyone… leaving Jack the clear opportunity to nick their wallets.

"So not only are ye gettin' to be near tall as I am, but now ye beatin' me at my own game. Well, no bother. Bad day is all." Jack loaded the coins into the small fabric pouch he kept inside his jacket pocket and folded the coat up underneath his pillow. "Tomorrow we'll get out again. I'll find some nice-looking girls who'd like to donate to the 'Poor, Unfortunate, Motherless Jack Fund'."

"Keep quiet!" A deep voice shouted from outside the door, accompanied by a loud banging noise. "Shut the bloody 'ell up or I'll come in there and shut ye up meself!"

"Could you please keep it down, sir?" Harry asked, stifling a laugh to remain obtusely courteous. "We're trying to sleep."

Another sharp rap sounded against the door before the guard obviously gave up and scuffled away down the hall.

"'Could ye please keep it down, sir?'" The boy in the cot alongside Harry's mocked, adding on a pathetic sounding lisp. "Damn if ye aren't the sorriest bloke in 'ere. And the luckiest. Glad I picked ye up when I did. I swear, if I ever saw another person slip off trouble quicker 'en you, I'd drop dead."

"If he didn't kill you first." Harry quirked a smile at his friend before brushing his hair off his forehead, revealing a faint, lightening-shaped scar. "You're slow as all."

"Bugger off an' go to sleep." He grumbled good-naturedly. "Big day tomorrow."

"Don't I know it." He rolled over on the thin, foam mattress and burrowed his face into the starched fabric of his pillow. "Another day out and about. Rest up, mate."

"An' Harry? Happy birthday."

"Oh, shut it and sleep already." But Harry smiled, nonetheless. He was now, officially, sixteen years old.

* * *

"Morning, Harry." Jack said cheerfully, perched on the edge of his cot and dressed formally in a button-down shirt and nice trousers. 

"Didja get dressed up just for me?" Harry laughed as he rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"For your sorry arse? Not a chance. Got to impress the girls, ye know. Wouldn't hurt ye to try it yourself, comb ye hair and whatnot."

"Doesn't stick." He said lightly, pulling himself out of bed and reaching for his clothes, some more of his cousin Dudley's jeans that fell dangerously low on his waist and had a habit of tripping him when he walked. "Besides, girls don't like guys with weird scars on their faces."

"So much you know!" Jack retorted as he tossed Harry a gray t-shirt. "Girls dig scars. Makes 'em think we're dangerous. If you're not getting fixed up, can we get outta here already? Thought you 'er dead or somethin'. Couldn't get ye awake."

Harry brushed a hand over his head and frowned as a few troublesome strands of hair popped right back up. "I had some trouble sleeping."

Jack's eyes narrowed with concern. "You goin' all nutters again? Shoutin' and seein' things and all?"

"No," Harry lied smoothly. "Just couldn't get to sleep." The truth was that he had been that creature again. Weak. Barely alive, and so full of hatred it made his forehead sting as if his mind were ready to burst from the force of it. He would wake up in the middle of the night shaking and slick with a cold sweat. But the last time Jack caught him, he had been a snake, or maybe he had seen a snake, it was all such a blur, but he had flung himself off the bed and retched on the floor. Jack pulled him to his feet, cleaned him up a bit, and got him back into bed without saying a word. He hadn't even mentioned it until just then. That's how Jack was.

"Well, hurry up. Can't get out of 'ere half as easy without my lucky mate, eh?"

A few minutes later the two boys were creeping quietly down the hall, bypassing the empty classrooms and heading out toward the door. They made their way along the side of the building, toward a weak piece of wire Jack had discovered years ago. "Why jump when the fence'll open right up for ye?" He had asked, genuinely puzzled, when Harry suggested that they climb over to escape after his first couple of days there. Sure enough, a slight push on the metal gate and the weak links would give way, creating a narrow gap just large enough to squeeze through. Well, at least Harry and Jack could squeeze through. Harry couldn't quite imagine bulky, pig-faced Dudley making it through without a couple scratches.

Jack had made it through and was gesturing for Harry to hurry it up when they heard a gruff voice shout "I thought I saw them over here…." Jack looked panicked as he grabbed the fence and pulled to widen the gap, but Harry was frozen, motionless. He looked down and saw his ridiculously long pant leg caught on the raw edge of the ripped wire. He jerked his leg up and felt the waistband of his jeans fall an inch or two lower. Harry closed his eyes. A distraction. He needed a distraction or he was going to be caught, trouser-free and outside the school boundaries.

"What the-!" The guard shouted as a tree branch fell directly in front of him, resulting in a flurry of leaves and twigs. Taking advantage of the moment, Harry carefully reached down to his ankle and ripped off the bottom of his pant leg before clearing out with Jack fast behind.

"You," Jack gasped as he sped along the dirt path alongside him. "Are the jammiest bastard I've ever met. Keep runnin'."


	3. Big Day Out

The city was bright and full of activity. Outside the wire fence of St. Brutus's, the sun shone clear and the people all seemed to be absurdly ecstatic. There were rows of stores along the street with shiny objects glittering in the windows, tempting Harry with their newness. He stopped for a moment outside a clothing boutique and contemplating splurging on a nice set of new jeans. "Ready for this 'un?" Jack grinned, straightened his collar, and rushed into the crowd to slam directly into an elderly woman standing on the opposite side of the street.

"Oh my goodness!" Harry could hear her squeal as she fell, bottom to the sidewalk.

Jack stilled in his tracks and let out a loud gasp. "I'm very sorry, miss! I didn't mean to- here, let me help you up." He extended a hand to her and gently pulled her to her feet. "I'm terribly sorry, but I lost my younger brother in the crowd not two minutes ago, and my mum'll skin me alive if anything 'appens. Bit queer in the head, ye see. Hardly even blinked before he was gone. Are you alright? I didn't ruin your pretty dress, did I?" He flashed wide blue eyes toward the woman, appearing boyish and flustered. She smoothed her hands over the loud flower-printed housedress fondly and smiled.

"I'm fine, dear. But you should really be more careful where you're going. Now where did you last see the boy?"

"He was right over…" Jack let his eyes wander over to where Harry was now leaning against a light post. "Oh thank God!" He sobbed dramatically, pointing a finger directly at him. "There he is! Oh thanks for your help, miss, and again, I'm very sorry for knocking into you. I'll be more careful, I promise. Harry! Harry, over here!" Harry shrugged his shoulders at him, confused. He had been listening in, but certainly wasn't prepared to play a part in Jack's little charade.

"The poor thing looks terrified!" The woman cooed in sympathy. She reached into her purse and pulled out a few hard candies. "Here. Give him these, and tell him he shouldn't be running off, not when he's got such a nice, responsible older brother there to watch over him."

Jack smiled sweetly. "Thanks, miss. I'll be bringing him home right away." He nodded his head in thanks and ran over to Harry. "Brought you a candy, ickle baby brother," he whispered close into Harry's ear before grabbing his hand and marching him down the street and out of the woman's sight.

"Are you mental?" Harry snapped. "What were you doing?"

"Making some money." He grinned and pulled a foreign looking leather wallet out of his pocket. "Got some candies too. She must have been 'sweet' on me, eh?" He laughed and stuffed the wallet back into his pocket. "Wanna candy?"

Harry shook his head but Jack tossed one at him anyway. "Whaddya mean by 'queer in the head', you stupid prat." He tried to look angry, but was actually mildly amused. "Shoulda told me you were going to come at me like that."

"Oh come off it, Potter. You know it was brilliant. Look, I'll even give ye some of the money when we get back. Eat the candy and let's find a new one."

"How 'bout you're the queer one this time…." Harry had only muttered the words under his breath before an arm came flying toward him and swatted the back of his head. "Fine, fine! New one!"

* * *

Harry waited patiently as a middle aged man continued to argue with a nearby shopkeeper to the point of distraction. Just a moment more and he would make his move. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Jack, who presently had his arm about the shoulders of a pretty girl, with his hand inching ever so close toward the girl's open purse. The girl looked thrilled to be on the receiving end of his attentions. Jack returned Harry's look and shot him a wink. Jack was a cocky git, and Harry seemed to have lost his luck. He turned his focus back to his target, who now was standing with his back to Harry- it was now or never. He stalked forward, but found himself stumbling over a small child that had wandered into his path, knocking the both of them down to the ground with a loud thump. The middle aged man turned to witness the spectacle, and Harry knew the whole thing was ruined. His irritation grew as the child's hand reached to tug on his arm as he tried to pull himself to his feet, each pull seemingly punctuated with a whimpering sniffle.

"D'you mind?" Harry asked as he tugged his arm away from the little boy.

"I was watching you and now I lost my mum." He whispered, wiping at his eyes.

"Well, shouldn't have been watching me, then, should you?" Harry crouched down to bring himself to the boy's level as he eyed him suspiciously. "What didja see? Why were you watching me anyway?"

"Be-because." He sniffed. "You're Harry Potter."

Harry jerked awkwardly. "How do you know my name?"

The little boy's mouth dropped open slightly, forming a tiny, round 'O'. "Because you're famous." The excitement of meeting such a person seemed to negate his tears as he took a step closer to Harry. "Can I see your scar?"

Harry absent-mindedly pushed the fringe up from his face and exposed the thin scar on his forehead. "How d'ya know about the scar-thing?" Perhaps his parents were friends of the Dursleys… but they would hardly call him famous. Infamous, more like. An embarrassment, but worthy of introducing into the conversation to attract some pity and admirations of such Christian charity.

"Go find your mum, kid." He said, and began to move away from him.

"Can't. Please help me find her. You can meet her. She tells me stories about you lots of times." The boy grabbed onto his arm again.

"What's she tell you? Warn you to be good, or you'll end up like stupid ol' Harry Potter and be sent to St. Brutus's? Off!" He shook the boy's handaway violently. "Find somebody else to bother." Tears started to fill the little boy's eyes again. Harry turned on the heels of his trainers and left the child crying on the sidewalk, but he had taken no more than a few steps before he heard a woman's voice shouting, "Thomas, there you are, sweetheart."

Harry made his way down the street and looked around for Jack desperately, he couldn't have gotten far. Then he saw it- sitting half-open on a park bench, just waiting for someone to take. Harry toyed with the idea of playing the game out properly, sitting down by the girl, maybe starting up a conversation and then casually dipping his fingers into the purse to reach for the ready wallet. But he was never very good with subtlety, that was Jack's department. Harry was fast, Jack was clever. They worked better as a team, but with Jack nowhere to be found…. Harry crept up behind the bench, deftly snatched the purse up in his hand, and ran.

"Stop! Thief!"


	4. The Arrest

Harry felt his heartbeat pounding between his ears, in the space behind his eyes, as he maneuvered his way through the crowd. Everything seemed to blur, and yet he had never been so focused on a single thing in his life. Most people just stared at him in mild confusion, but a few reacted quickly enough to begin chasing after him- enough people to make a problem. His feet slammed against the pavement, faster, faster, until he could feel the shocks reverberating through his spine.

And then he crashed, falling toward the sidewalk and taking a thin woman piled up with shopping bags down with him. Before he could even figure out the cause of his fall, thick, meaty arms were forcing his hands behind his back. With every struggle to get free, the man tightened his grip. "Let's take this kid over to the station," a voice behind Harry shouted over the rest of the commotion, then Harry spotted the uniform lurking behind him.

He whipped his head around frantically, trying to spot his partner in crime. He hadn't made it that far, Jack had to be nearby. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the familiar dirty blond hair. "Jack!" He shouted desperately. "Jack, please!" Jack watched him with a thoroughly unreadable look on his face, and then Harry saw him give a sad shake of his head before he disappeared into what was quickly growing into a mob. "Damnit, Jack, this isn't funny!" Harry screamed, squirming in his trapped position. "Jack!"

* * *

Harry was dragged back through the gates of St. Brutus's with a sullen scowl on his face. Jack was probably counting his damn coins in the dormitory, having a good laugh at Harry's expense. Sodding bastard. But at least, only after what seemed like hours of wheedling and convincing, the police officer had agreed to take him back to the school instead of to the police station. Must have figured it was practically the same thing. 

"Hullo?" The officer shouted into the empty corridor past the front door. "Anyone here? Got a boy here for you." The headmaster stormed out of his office, looking particularly unpleasant in all his stout, barrel-chested glory. "Caught him thieving around the center of town. Keep track of the lot, eh?" Just then, Harry noticed the tall, white-haired man standing in the doorway of the headmaster's office. The man had long hair and wore an old-fashioned suit, but the strangest thing about him was the strange look on his face- a gentle, amused sort of look, with a twinkle-eyed kind of mischief. Like a giant elf or something.

"Who'er you?" Harry asked bluntly. The headmaster growled.

"This gentleman has arrived to inform me that you will be attending his school next term, and perhaps permanently." He directed his attention toward the police officer. "Bit namby-pamby if you ask me. Boys like that need the paddle on occasion, keeps them honest. And this one… this one's been nothing but trouble since he got here." He turned back to Harry. "Get inside, boy!" Harry rushed toward the office.

"Thank you officer." He heard the strange man say politely. "I promise you, Mr. Potter will be dealt with accordingly."

Harry bit back a groan. What kind of new school was this anyway? Could there possibly be anything worse that St. Brutus's?


	5. The Explanation

Harry sat slouched in one of the small metal chairs against the wall of the office as the headmaster and his guest reentered the room.

"So here he is…what's your name again, if you don't mind."

"Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore."

"Right." The headmaster boomed. "Dumbledore. Now you mind yours, Potter. Stupid boy. Glad to be seeing the back of him." He brushed past the man- Dumbledore- and left them alone in the office.

"So…" The man began, idly examining the items on the desk. "Harry-"

"Did the Dursleys send you here?" Harry interrupted in a cold tone. "Did they send you here to come and get me and take me away some place worse? Because I'll run away and you won't be able to catch me."

Dumbledore met Harry's glare with a slight smile. "Oh, I'm quite sure you would be very difficult to find, indeed. But as it has taken us a long time to find you in the first place, I hope that you will choose to stay put." Harry frowned. This man had been looking for him, but he had only been gone for a couple hours. He found himself even more confused as to what kind of school this was supposed to be. As if reading his mind, Dumbledore continued. "Now are you prepared to listen to what I have to say? Because once I have spoken, all intentions will be fully revealed, and hopefully all misunderstandings will be cleared up However, you must promise me that you will sit and listen quietly until I have finished speaking. Do we have an agreement?" Harry nodded, his mouth pressed tightly shut.

"Very well. There are people in this world, Harry, who have abilities beyond those of average humans. People with the ability to make things happen with their mind, perhaps just because they want something badly enough." Harry stiffened in his seat suspiciously. "Yes, I see you do understand what I am speaking of. These people have access to a power that, to keep things somewhat simple, we will call magic. Your parents, Harry, were both wizards. Very talented wizards, to be precise. And I have reason to believe that you have these powers as well. In fact, I'd be very surprised if you did not." He watched Harry closely, looking for some sort of response. "Now do you have any questions about that before we move on?"

Harry sat silent, dumbfounded, until a raspy grumble cleared his throat. "What kind of magic can…um…_wizards _do?"

Dumbledore looked at him very strangely for a moment, as if recognizing someone he had met before. "Would you like a demonstration?" He offered kindly. Harry, feeling unusually guilty in a way he couldn't pinpoint, gave a curt nod. "Very well. I believe I know just the thing." Harry watched the man's aged eyelids flutter closed for a brief second as he pulled a thin wand out of his pocket. The wand gave a quick swish and the wallet from within Harry's pocket flew up into the air. Harry's hand shot up to grab at it, closing around the smooth leather after a few empty efforts. Dumbledore opened his eyes and looked once again on the verge of recognition, but didn't speak.

"What about my parents?" Harry asked quietly, stuffing the wallet back into his pocket.

Whatever silent concerns Dumbledore might have had seemed to resolve themselves just as he began to speak. "Years ago, when you were only an infant, there was a man who wanted to kill both muggles and those that associated with them. He had great power in the wizarding community, and that power made him extremely dangerous. People came together to stand up against the rise of this man, in hopes of protecting millions of people from his cruelty. They were heroes, Harry, and your parents were involved."

"What's a muggle?" He asked immediately.

"A non-magical human."

Harry released a loud exhale and raked a hand over his hair out of habit. He was a wizard. His parents were wizards. He had been told his parents died in a car crash, and that it had caused the lightening-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Everybody knew magic wasn't real, but the explanation resonated somewhere within him as true, belying all logical reasoning…and it was such a strange shaped scar for a car-accident…. "What happened to them?"

"They were murdered. Your mother… she died protecting you. That protection, that love, left its mark on your forehead. This man cast a curse on you, a killing curse. Curse scars," he continued, "Are very rare, but the protection your mother's sacrifice offered reversed the spell back onto him, leaving you with only a scar."

"Who is this person, anyway? This nut who goes about killing people for fun. Who killed my parents. Why did they even get involved?"

"This man went by the name of Lord Voldemort. Your parents were involved because they were brave, good people. They couldn't stand to see those around them suffer."

"I've been suffering!" Harry snapped impatiently, the blood rushing to his face in a sudden burst of anger. "If you liked my folks so much, how come you left me out here to fend for myself? Having fun with, I dunno, your wands and fairy dust and all, while I've been here? Nice of you to stop by and visit, but you could have written or something. Anything!"

"Your anger is quite expected, and completely well-deserved. Harry, you were sent to live with your aunt and uncle for your own protection. Typically, letters are sent by the age of eleven as an invitation to attend the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but there were complications, in your case. I had reason to believe Lord Voldemort had returned, had compromised the safety of Hogwarts even at that point. Out of concern for your safety, your letter was postponed. We were left… uninformed when they decided to send you away to school. Now, even in his weakened, vulnerable state, Voldemort has once again begun to collect his followers…."

Harry thought of his dreams, where he was something- something else entirely. Frustrated by his own weakness. Forced into being coddled and cared for like an infant by unworthy servants, cowards who had deserted him. The resentment and rage and… anticipation. "So what makes it any safer now?" Harry asked, his curiosity trumping his temper.

"It isn't. But unfortunately, we have little choice. When he gave you that scar, Voldemort marked you as his equal. Your help will be integral to his defeat."

Harry rose to his feet with a faint growl. "So you thought you'd come and ask for my help. To help you, after you people killed my parents, then left me to rot with those disgusting Dursleys. You let them send me here! See, you make it sound like I was some kind of hero, getting rid of this Lord fellow, but it was you who sent me away, wasn't it? For my 'own protection', though, can't forget that!" He kicked at his chair until it toppled over sideways with a clatter, his anger rising until he felt it had completely taken control. "An' now he's back. An' if I'm so safe here, maybe I don't want to leave to go to your bloody school!" Harry stormed away toward the door, turning around only as an afterthought. "Besides, if you think the Dursleys will put in book money so I can go live with you and your stupid magic, you'd best think again. They're not exactly generous. I would know," he sneered. "I'm the one who lived with them."

"Harry," Dumbledore started, with an edge of warning, but with that strange twinkle returning to his eyes. "You didn't think that your parents would leave you with nothing, did you?"


	6. Diagon Alley

Harry reached into his pocket to feel the soft velvety fabric of the coin pouch again, just to check and make sure it was still there. Amazing. Bloody amazing. Not only was he some kind of wizard, but he was practically swimming in...well, whatever those big coins were. Not like normal money, but Harry supposed it worked to the same effect.

But it wasn't the money.

He'd have thought that would have been it. But the money didn't just appear there in that vault with those wrinkly short people guarding it. His parents had left it there. His parents, people he hadn't thought of in so long. Years ago, when he was just a stupid kid, he'd lie in his bed on his birthday, down in that pathetic cupboard under the stairs, and wish with all his heart that everything would change. His parents wouldn't really be dead and they'd somehow come back and find him...and he'd have happy birthdays with presents and kisses and cake, and all those warm fuzzy things that he guessed normal kids got to have. But he got older. He gave up those childish longings and learned to take what he needed. And now these mysterious parents had returned, and all of his old questions and longings and needs that couldn't be filled with pocket money came back with them. Who were his parents? He'd never even seen a picture.

They were wizards. It was like a piece of a puzzle, and he found himself preoccupied with picturing them in his mind, standing in the very bank he had stood at not fifteen minutes ago, making an account that would later be put in his name. The Potters. James and Lily Potter. Complete and utter strangers that just happened to share his last name.

Dumbledore walked him through the decrepit looking bar, through the moving bricks, into the center of a part of town Harry couldn't remember ever seeing before. Had shown him the vault, and was now taking him, store by store, through 'Diagon Alley', waiting patiently when Harry stopped to stare into each and every shop window, mesmerized by strange and wonderful things like large, fluffy owls and long robes, and then there was the sleek-looking broom that caught his eye for some reason, though he couldn't explain why. It called to him like something out of a dream.

Dumbledore steered him towards a dusty bookshop, and helped Harry pick out his books. So many that Harry couldn't carry them all, but a second later they had disappeared into thin air and Dumbledore smiled.

"You promise I don't have to go to class with the little kids?" Harry asked one last time, hating the genuine nervousness he felt in the pit of his stomach at the thought of a new school.

"You will sleep in the dormitory of whichever House you are placed in, and will come to me every morning after breakfast." Dumbledore replied cheerfully, as if this weren't the third time he had repeated this information. "We will try to catch you up with the rest of your class, though I must tell you, Harry, it will be very hard work."

Dumbledore lead him to a small wand shop, but stopped before reaching the door. "It's a shame about Mr. Olivander's disappearance, but I know Jim Tolken personally, and I'm sure he will help you find the perfect instrument." As he rose his arm to gesture to the door, the long sleeve of his weird-looking suit was pulled back to reveal a sickly black, withered hand. Harry winced, but kept his questions to himself and walked stoically into the unfamiliar store.

A portly-looking young gentlemen rushed behind the desk, a pair of glasses lopsidedly resting atop his head. "May I help you..." He trailed off as he caught sight of Dumbledore and flushed. "Oh, Professor Dumbledore! It's wonderful to see you again! Have you come for a new wand? Or maybe you'd like to have it cleaned up a bit, wand maintenance is key for peak magical performance, you know, and-"

"Please do remember to breathe, Jim. And I wish you would call me Albus. 'Professor' really isn't necessary after graduation."

"Of course, of course." Jim blustered as he made a frenzied attempt to clear off the counter space. "And who is this? One of your students?" He brought his eyes up to look at Harry, then let out a small gasp. "Is this him? Harry Potter! Oh, welcome to Tolken's, Mr. Potter, anything I can help you with, anything at all!"

Harry cleared his throat nervously. "Err...I'd like a wand?"

"Of course!" Jim shouted, as though the thought had just occurred to him. "Let's see what we can find..."

Wand after wand of fizzled hisses and feeble puffs of grayish smoke until Harry found an 11 inch holly wand with something called a phoenix feather. He couldn't help but notice the small smile that had crept up on Dumbledore's face, and found that he was becoming annoyed with the constant feeling that there was some joke going on he wasn't wise to. He tucked the wand partially up his sleeve, clutching the end possessively. This was it. The tool he could use to focus his powers. The rush of it seemed to flow through every centimeter of his body, thrilling him with its sense of oncoming adventure. Dumbledore exited the shop behind him, stopping for a moment as Jim Tolken came running up to him to whisper something sharply in his ear. More secrets. "Well, Harry, you have found yourself an excellent wand. If that is everything, please do hold on tightly. No, Harry, the other hand. Yes. That will be fine." A quick flash and Harry was spinning, or rather, the world was spinning around him, under him, over him, everywhere. And then he was at King's Cross Train Station.


	7. Make Friends and Influence People pt 1

"Harry, I am afraid we must part ways here. The directions are quite simple, if you follow this path directly you will reach Platform 9 and ¾, where the train will arrive to take you and your fellow students to Hogwarts. I am truly sorry that I am unable to escort you further, but I'm afraid I must attend to other things. Best of luck, and I'm certain to see you shortly." With another small smile, Dumbledore had vanished.

Harry glared at the signs in front of him. Platform 9. Platform 10. He closed his eyes, shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, then looked again. Still no 9 and ¾.

"Ginny, give it here!" A lanky, red-haired teenager jogged along after a slender girl, jabbing his wand frantically in the air, absolutely oblivious to any onlookers.

"He likes me better anyway." The girl sniffed, placing a small rat on her shoulder. The small animal seemed frozen with fright.

"Stupid rat." The boy grumbled, grabbing it away from her and stuffing it into his pocket as he reached the large cement separator between the platforms. "Don't you know who feeds you?" The boy turned and found himself face to face with Harry. "You going in or what?"

"What?" Harry repeated dumbly.

"Ron!" The girl hissed, elbowing him sharply in the side. "Shut it!"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, running around with your you-know-what out in the open air where anyone could see it! Back in the pocket! This minute!" A motherly-looking older woman with a messy bun of flaming red hair came running out behind them pushing an overflowing cart, splotches of pink coloring her cheeks.

"Yes, mum." The boy, 'Ron', mumbled with embarrassment.

Harry took a strong step forward. "Excuse me," he asked under his breath. "Are you...wizards?"

The woman froze in her tracks, her mouth pursed with worry. "And your name is?"

"Potter. Um, Harry, I mean. Sorry. Harry Potter." The girl next to him let out a shrill squeak and grabbed her brother's arm. Ron just squinted down at his forehead as if trying to make something out behind the thick layer of messy hair.

"Harry Potter?" He repeated, with a small smile. "Funny."

"Do you know where Platform... 9 ¾ is?"

The older woman had been looking at him strangely, but then let out a gasp. "Oh! Oh my... you are, aren't you, dear? You look just like James! Oh goodness, Ron, show the boy how to get through to the platform! Stop staring, Ginny, it isn't polite."

"See, you have to go through the separator. It's easy, really. Helps to get a running start, though." Ron hoisted his luggage up as high as he could and backed up a few feet. Ginny swiftly cut in front of him, sparing a moment to send the boys a sassy wink before dashing toward the cement and disappearing into it.

The woman watched her son make a run for the divider before turning to Harry. "If you need help, I'd be happy to-"

"I can do it." Harry snapped, watching the woman's face fall with surprise and disappointment. "But thanks, I guess." He added gruffly, raking a hand through his hair. "Guess I better go." He grabbed the cases from his cart and, taking a deep breath, dove toward the separator.

* * *

"You can sit here, if you want." Ron offered simply, holding the sliding door to the compartment open as if he had known Harry his entire life. Harry's eyes narrowed, but he took a seat in the empty space across the small table. The girl came bounding in, throwing her weight into a seat across from him.

"Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Ginny." She extended a freckled hand, which he shook, warily. "And this is my git of a brother, Ron. Shake." Ron obediently stuck out his hand, but made a point to roll his eyes.

A young girl stepped into the compartment, with a mess of tangled, pale hair and wide-set blue eyes. She stood completely still, staring oddly a few inches above Harry's head. Harry noticed that she had very small root vegetables dangling from her ears, like the turnips his Aunt Petunia used to grow in the garden but smaller, and came to the conclusion that she was either stoned, or just insane.

"Luna, would you like to come in?" Ginny sighed, with a bit of a giggle.

"Thank you." Luna responded. She continued to stare at the point directly above Harry, who was now staring back at her with a decidedly sullen expression. "You're Harry Potter."

"Yeah, so?"

"How did you escape?" She asked distractedly, pushed a strand of pale blonde hair behind her ear casually as she sat down next to Ginny and fumbled through her bags for something.

"From St. Brutus's?"

"No. From the harpies." She pulled out what looked like a red top tabloid and smiled fondly at him. "The ones that kidnapped you as a baby. Did they really keep you hidden on Avalon? I'd love to see it one day. I've heard it's beautiful..." She peered at him again, this time making eye contact. It was actually rather awkward, the kind of unblinking stare that leaves the watched party feeling uncomfortably exposed. His mouth twitched into a frown.

"I wasn't kidnapped by harpies."

She blinked at him curiously. He turned his attention to Ron, who was scouring over his own magazine, which read "QUIDDITCH MONTHLY" in large, flashy letters across the front. "What's that?" He asked.

Ron glanced up. "What's what?" When Harry gestured to the magazine, Ron went goggle-eyed. "You don't know Quidditch?" He asked, dumbfounded.

"Well, I'm not exactly from around here." Harry grumbled impatiently. "So what is it?"

Ron's brow furrowed at Harry's attitude, but shrugged it off. "It's a sport. Played...played on brooms." At Harry's blank look, he groaned loudly. "Okay, hold on, I'll draw you out a picture."

Harry struggled to pay attention as Ron drew elaborate messy circles all over the back of his Quidditch Monthly, but Ginny had started swirling her wand tip through the air in front of her, leaving designs of sparkled colors in its wake, and Harry found his mind drifting.

"I'm going to check out the rest of the carriage." Harry blurted out once Ron seemed about finished with his lecture on the fundamentals of broom sports, and headed for the door.


	8. Make Friends and Influence People pt 2

**Chapter 8**

**Make Friends and Influence People, Part 2**

"So it's true." A voice sneered from behind him in the hallway of the train. "The great Harry Potter has decided to grace us with his presence." Harry turned around to face a group of strangers, about his age. In the front of the pack was a boy with silvery blonde hair and sharp features, his arms crossed lazily in front of his chest. "Pansy. Come here." A petite girl shoved her way through to the boy's side. "Meet Harry Potter." The boy tilted his head toward him. "She's quite a fan."

Pansy's upturned nose wrinkled in disgust. "He looks like a muggle! Don't you know anything? We're supposed to change into our school robes before we get to Hogwarts." Sure enough, Harry realized they were all wearing dark robes with green snake patches.

The boy stepped closer and extended his hand. "Draco Malfoy. And this here is Pansy Parkinson." Harry shook his hand and nodded to Pansy, who was still looking at him as if he were an especially ugly insect. "We're the Slytherin prefects." He gestured proudly to the small badge on his chest.

"Harry, are you all right?" Ron had left the compartment and now stood behind Harry, eyeing the Slytherin group at a careful distance.

"Lessons to be learned, Potter," Draco said smoothly, "a man can be judged by the quality of his company, and a Weasley can be spotted by a head full of ugly red hair and tatty robes" He twisted around to face Ron. "Why don't you mind your own business, Weaselbee." Draco drawled, taking obvious delight in the angry flush that quickly overtook Ron's face. "Or would you rather fight it out? This time, maybe without your sister's help?"

"Leave Ginny out of this, Malfoy." Ron growled, pulling himself up to his full height which, in all honesty, was a good head taller than Draco.

Pansy stepped forward, whipping out her wand in the blink of an eye.

"Let me do this one, please?" She simpered to Draco, who gave her a smug nod. She raised her wand and smiled prettily. "Hmm. What shall I turn you into this time? I thought that rubbish bin was particularly inspired..."

Ginny had rushed out into the hallway with her wand raised. "Leave Ginny out of what?" She mocked, with a grin. Just before she could shout out something else, Harry saw a frizzy haired girl pushing her way to the center of the action.

"Everybody, freeze!" The girl shouted. "Really, how childish. Back to your compartments, or I'll be speaking to your heads of houses. And prefects! You should know better!"

"Granger, do you have to spoil everything?" Pansy pouted, reluctantly slipping the wand back into her robe. "Don't you have something better to do? Like fix your hair?" She let out a high pitched laugh and turned on her heels. Draco muttered something snide under his breath and followed Pansy back to their compartment. The rest of the pack followed.

"Ginny, this is not some kind of game. I have told you numerous times to stay out of-"

"Really, Hermione." Ginny shot her an annoyed glance. "You can go ahead and tell McGonagall. I don't care."

The frizzy haired girl walked stiffly over to Harry. "Yes, I heard you were on the train. It's nice to meet you, Harry. My name is Hermione Granger, and I'm one of the Gryffindor prefects. Dean should be around here somewhere, doing rounds. I do hope _you_ plan to stay out of trouble." She shot Ginny a dirty look. "If you need any help with anything, please feel free to ask." She gave a curt nod and walked off down the hall.

"Who is she?" Harry asked, trying to store away all that he had learned from the quick scuffle.

"A bossy little know-it-all." Ginny sniffed, heading back toward their compartment. "Absolutely no sense of humor."

"What was all that anyway?" He continued, trailing back to their room while shooting an occasional glance back toward the now empty hallway.

"Slytherins," Ron growled angrily. "They're snakes for a reason, y'know. Every dark wizard who ever lived came out of Slytherin."

At this, Ginny snorted. "Oh please, Ron. I doubt that. But that's not to say I like them. Because I don't."

Harry simply raised an eyebrow. A part of his mind sparked at the thought of what kind of damage one of those wands could do. He wished that girl Hermione could have held off just a little longer.

"Hogwart's is separated," Ginny explained. "There's Gryffindor... Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and Slytherin...well, you'll see for yourself in the sorting."

"I'm in Ravenclaw." Luna stated softly, reminding Harry of her presence in the compartment. "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure." She added in a sing-song voice.

"Er, right then." Harry said, puzzled. "What are you lot then?"

"Gryffindor, of course!" Ron laughed. "All the Weasleys have been, for ages, except for our great-uncle Ignatius, and no one _ever_ talks about _him_."

"Of course." Harry echoed, dryly.

"When I got up to the sorting hat as a firstie, I thought for sure I'd be stuck somewhere awful like Hufflepuff."

"What's wrong with Hufflepuff?"

Ginny scowled at Ron. "Nothing is wrong with Hufflepuff. Every Hufflepuff I know is perfectly sweet."

Ron shrugged his shoulder. "Just a little, well... they're _Hufflepuffs_!"

Ginny ignored her brother and instead focused on Harry. "Er, not to be rude or anything, but we all figured you'd start up at Hogwarts at eleven, like everyone else. You'd have been in Ron's year, right? What happened?"

"I was at a different school." Harry replied vaguely. "Didn't get a letter because...Dumbledore... he couldn't find my address."

"Couldn't find your address?" Ron looked unconvinced. "Really, you out looking for You-Know-Who, right? Because that's what I heard. Some muggles spotted him somewhere in Egypt and you ran away to go look for him."

"That's not true." Harry said stonily. Ron's face drooped with disappointment, where as Ginny continued to peer at Harry curiously.

"So you were at another school then?"

"None of your bloody business what happened, now is it?"

She stared sharply at him for a moment. "No." She finally answered in a crisp tone. "I guess it's not."

Ron shot an warning glare at Harry. "Hey. Watch it."

"You have no idea," Harry grumbled, "with your magic wands and your... Quickditch or what... no bloody idea what my life has been like, so why don't you both just shut it." He snapped his head around to face the window, and proceeded to ignore the trio until the train pulled to a final stop.


End file.
